


Where the Whawentons Went

by Basmathgirl



Series: A Tale of a Few View Cams [7]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Webcams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 01:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11659047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basmathgirl/pseuds/Basmathgirl
Summary: Donna recorded a video diary to send to Wilf about a party they attended. This is a companion piece to describe what happened there.If you are only interested in the webcam bits, I suggest you skip this part of the series.





	Where the Whawentons Went

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** One usage of a mild swear word. And jelly abuse is mentioned.  
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Doctor Who, David Tennant or Catherine Tate. Life is so unfair!  
>  **A/N:** Written originally as a belated response to the May Tux challenge over at [dd_plotbunnies](http://dd-plotbunnies.livejournal.com/) many moons ago; and the [pictures there](http://pics.livejournal.com/time_converges/pic/0002w2e1/).  
>  **A/N2:** for anyone who is new to Britspeak, jelly is Jell-O. If any other word that I use confuses you, do please let me know.

The Doctor knocked softly on his companion’s bedroom door and walked in. There was no sign of Donna.

“Donna!” he yelled out plaintively. 

There was a muffled yell back from the other side of the en suite bathroom. “I’m in here, Doctor! I’m having a bath.” 

She sounded a little exasperated with that last bit, he thought. He wondered why.

As he answered with, “Okay, I’ll meet you in the library!” he heard the distinct sound of moving water, and the sound of someone obviously getting out of the bath. He tried to suppress the image that flooded his mind: Donna rising out of the water. He had plenty of data from when her clothes had been vaporised to base this image on. He thought it best that he distract himself with a book he’d picked up yesterday on particle physics; it would be good for a laugh.

He had worked his way through half a pile of books when Donna suddenly plonked herself down next to him on the library sofa. She was still in her dressing gown, her hair was wet, and she smelt strongly of soap, shampoo and perfume. It overwhelmed his senses to the point that he could hardly breathe. ‘I must be developing an allergy’ he thought.

“So, what did you want to ask me?” she queried and brought him back from his musings, to focus on her again.

“Oh… er… I wanted to know if you thought I should go with the tux tonight at the party or stick with the blue suit?” he stammered.

“You’ve got a tuxedo? A real, proper evening penguin-like suit? Never! This I’ve got to see. Definitely… go with the tux,” she encouraged him.

“Deal! Meet you back here in about thirty minutes then?” he offered. 

Donna nodded her agreement.

To say that Donna was surprised when she saw him in the tuxedo would be an understatement. How she stopped herself from squee-ing she didn’t know; but she had managed it. She couldn’t resist walking up to him and rubbing her hands over the front of the jacket, up to his shoulders.

“You scrub up well,” she told him. 

He loved the mischievous glint in her eyes as she said that. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself. In fact, I’d go so far as to say you look lovely.” 

He grinned back. She really was lovely. Well… not lovely… gorgeous was the word, but he thought he’d better not say that.

“Pft, charmer! Flattery will get you everywhere. Keep going,” she retorted and laughed at him. 

He could have stood there all night laughing with her. Pity they had the party to go to.

~o~

The palace where the King of Whawento was having his party was a glorious place. As you’d expect it to be, really. Heavenly music cascaded out of the building, golden lights welcomed them in, and the other guests were a sight to behold. Donna felt she was in her element. As they entered the main doorway to the ballroom, a toastmaster asked them their names in order to announce their arrival.

“The Doctor and Donna Noble,” the Doctor gave his standard greeting to the toastmaster.

They were announced as “The Doctor Noble and Mrs Donna Noble!” to the room. 

‘No change there then’ Donna resignedly thought. Nobody seemed to be really listening in the room, so they didn’t bother correcting the toastmaster. What would be the point?

The Doctor immediately steered her towards the most important looking people in the room, and started his ‘aren’t you all wonderful’ charm offensive. Donna had great fun watching them all melt under his attention. It really was fascinating at times; other times it was beyond annoying, but normally she managed to turn it around into being entertaining.

A tall, handsome Whawenton asked her to dance within minutes of their arrival. 

He’d asked her if her husband would mind her dancing with him. She’d laughed and told him that she would ask him when she eventually met him. The Whawenton had looked quite puzzled by that. People obviously listen to the announcements after all. 

She reassured him that the Doctor wouldn’t mind; but she was taken aback when he declared that that must be false seeing as the Doctor was glaring at him with open hostility. Donna laughed again, and told him the Doctor had a lazy eye and not to worry. They continued their dance chatting about flowers; how they’d got onto that topic she had no idea, but she was having fun. He returned her to the side of the Doctor when the dance finished.

The Doctor muttered something to her about checking out the security, grabbed her round the waist and swept her onto the dance floor with a flourish.

“I had no idea that you would actually dance,” Donna teased him.

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m not a complete bloke, you know,” he commented and smiled back. 

He avoided a large Whawenton who needed a dance lesson or three, and manoeuvred them straight towards the dessert table.

“Look, you didn’t have to use me as an excuse to get to the free food, you know,” she assured him. “Or did you need me for moral support? Frightened the iced doughnuts were going to attack you, were you? Or…” 

She was just getting in her teasing stride when the Doctor fixed her with a determined look. But he couldn’t stay serious for long when he was around her.

“I… I thought I sensed something that needed my attention over here. Do you ever stop taking the mick?” He laughed despite himself.

“Nah! Where’s the fun in that?” she wondered. “Something got your attention, eh? Something large, shaped like a cake and covered with meringue and chocolate sprinkles, by any chance?” Donna asked.

“Is there?! Where? Where did you see that?” He swivelled on the spot, desperately searching for some seconds. “I… I mean, no that isn’t what I was looking for. No. I think something might be up with that heraldry shield hanging over the back of the table.” He then looked at the shield as if it was going to jump down and bite him.

Honestly, what had she expected him to do? It wasn't as if this was out of the ordinary. “Oh, go on. Go and investigate it. I’ll stand guard here, and mind these cup cakes.” She pointed at the delicious looking small cakes sitting nearby on the table.

“Thanks, Donna,” he enthused. Now where did I put my sonic screwdriver?”

“Inside right breast pocket,” she informed him. She blushed slightly when he threw her a look. “I happened to notice earlier, alright? I wasn’t feeling you up or anything.”

“So you say,” he allowed, and grinned cheekily. “Anyway, I’ll just give this the once over…” He waved the sonic about for a bit. “Nope. No problems here. Perfectly harmless once I adjust the setting…” The sonic bleeped again, and then there was a definite: “Oops!”

“What have you done, Spaceman?” she warily asked. “Please tell me you haven’t broken anything.”

“I haven’t broken anything. Happy?” he grouched. “No. I’ve… erm… I’ve dropped my sonic screwdriver.” He suddenly looked very sheepish.

“Where have you dropped it?” She glared at him.

“In the jelly,” he gulped.

“Not in that multi-layered, fancily decorated jelly, surely?!” she hissed. He can be so stupid at times.

“Yep!” he popped, gesturing towards said jelly on display.

“Well, you can’t fish it out in sight of everyone,” she reasoned. “And we’ll have to hide it afterwards. It’ll be ruined. You’ll have to take it under the table, behind the curtain.”

“But I’ll ruin my tux,” he whined. “Can’t you do it?”

She gave him the glare-of-death. “You broke it. You fix it.”

“Fair ‘do’s,” he noted. “Are you coming with me?”

She laughed at him. “People will think we’re up to no good under there if we emerge in a mess.”

“You’re forgetting; they think we’re married,” he reminded her and added to the tease by waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh shush, you!” she chided. “You’re always getting me into trouble.”

“You love it really.”

“One day I’ll completely surprise you and bugger off,” she warned.

“Nah, you’d never do that,” he disagreed. “You love me too much.”

“Yeah, like a naughty puppy,” she retorted. “At least I don’t have to softly smack you on the nose when you wee on the carpet.”

He did his best to act shocked. “When do I ever wee on the carpet? That’s a complete lie.”

“I’m just saying,” she corrected. “You can be quite literal at times, do you know that?”

“I can be whatever you want me to be,” he schmoozed.

“Can you be Brad Pitt?” she instantly wondered.

“Ah, now, that would be pushing the boat out,” he stammered. “Maybe the next time I regenerate.”

Her face scrunched up in puzzlement. “Re what?”

“Oh, nothing,” he vaguely answered. “So, shall we deal with this jelly?”

She nodded. “Yeah, why not? Grab some spoons while you’re standing there. We don’t want it to go completely to waste.”

“Definitely,” he readily agreed. “That would be a crime against oozy goodness.”

“You are such a child at times,” she idly noted. “Come on; race you to the bottom of the bowl.”

They both immediately dipped down under the table and made their way behind the curtain. 

It was the most delicious jelly they had ever tasted. Good job it didn’t go to waste after all.

The Whawentons that noticed their departure wondered if eating jelly that way was some weird alien mating ritual. Fortunately, they were very open minded about that sort of thing.

When the Doctor and Donna emerged ten minutes later, splattered with jelly, their hosts gave them knowing little smiles and nods. 

The Doctor and Donna were perplexed by this response. Had they started a new fashion or something?

~o~

Back home in the TARDIS they had a very enjoyable argument about who had eaten the most dolly mixtures, and who had stolen the last marshmallow. Later, the Doctor would say he let Donna win. His punishment was to give her an extra foot massage. He could live with that.

“So, who did you enjoy dancing with the most tonight?” he tentatively asked her.

“Oh, so you’re classing that bit of fancy footwork you did back there as a full dance, are you?” she countered.

“I think it was good enough to stand alone,” he replied.

“The amount of jelly you got on your tux means it might be able to stand on its own,” she laughed.

He looked down at his considerably jellified tuxedo. It always had been a bit unlucky. “Maybe I shouldn’t have worn it,” he pondered.

“Of course you should have worn it,” she consoled him. “I like how my little Martian frog has turned into a handsome prince.”

“Ah, but that would mean I was transformed by a kiss. And I definitely didn’t get a kiss.” He looked at her and gave her another cheeky waggle of his eyebrows.

To his delight, she leaned in.

“You know what you are, don’t you?” she purred close to his ear.

“What?” he couldn’t help whispering back.

“A complete and utter tart!” she snickered, and danced off towards her bedroom.

“At least that means that, like the proverbial cat, I get the cream,” he quietly worded, and smiled up at the TARDIS. “I think I definitely have won in that respect, with Donna on board.”

The TARDIS hummed her agreement.


End file.
